Crash
by horseaholic
Summary: A car crash involving one of their own dramatically throws the Bohemians' lives off balance. Canon couples, no OC's. It's not a slash. It is rated for Roger's mouth. Mostly post Rent.
1. Chapter 1

Standard disclaimers apply. If I owned Rent, I'm sure Jonathan Larson and I would have issues, LOL. He wouldn't do this to his characters (or would he?), so this story must be mine.

This story takes place right as Roger has returned home from Santa Fe. Since I don't like Mimi and Angel being dead, they aren't, for now. As much as I hate to have my favorite character be the victim here, he seemed the only one (besides Mark) that would have enough money to even consider buying a car for the story.

The story involves only the Bohemians, and there will be no original characters introduced. I hope you like it. I had to finally put the idea down, since it's been bothering me for days. It begins right as Roger is returning from Santa Fe, and then it will go to right after Mimi leaves, just in case you get confused. I realize that's a little rushed, but it's all AU, so try to work with me here.

Roger turned off East Highway 139 and entered Brooklyn. He breathed a sigh of relief as he slowed down, upon entering the city. Within the next ten minutes, he would finally be home at last. He had been gone for almost a month and he couldn't say how happy he was to finally be home.

Roger drove up to the loft and parked his car. He went over to the pay phone and put in a quarter. He heard the phone up in the loft ring before he got the answering machine.

"_Speeeeeeak!_" Mark and his obnoxious voices said together. Roger smiled. Then the machine clicked. "Hey, Mark, it's me, Roger. I'm back from Santa Fe and you locked me out. Quit screening your calls and throw down the key."

Roger watched as Mark came out and looked down at him. "Roger!" he yelled happily. "It's about time you came home!"

Mark threw down the key and Roger caught it and quickly let himself in. He went up to the loft and the two best friends hugged.

"Hey, Rog," said Mark, "I missed you."

"I missed you, too," said Roger. "Santa Fe just wasn't the same without my family."

"It's good to have you back. Have you had anything to eat?" Mark asked, as they walked into the loft.

"Not yet," said Roger. "I had lunch a couple hours ago."

"I'm going to get you something to eat, then."

Roger smiled at his best friend's antics. "Marky," he said, "you don't have to. I'm fine, really. In fact, food can wait. We need to get everyone together at the Life to celebrate."

Mark looked up. "Celebrate what?" he asked.

"My up-and-coming rock stardom," Roger answered, grinning.

Comprehension dawned on Mark's face and his jaw slowly dropped. "You got a record deal!"

Roger grinned again. "Yep, I did; it's great. I sold that car I bought to get to Santa Fe, in order to get my guitar back, and they liked my acoustic stuff enough down there that I got a record deal. It's minor, but still good. I'm 'authentic,' they said."

Mark smiled. "That's great, Roger," he said, "really great. What else happened?" Mark could tell Roger was still hiding something from him.

"I got a new car."

"Really? Wow, that's neat."

"Yeah, it's sweet. It's parked down below if you want to see it before we meet everybody at the loft."

"Well, of course I want to see it. Let's go," Mark said eagerly.

"We have to call everybody first, Mark," Roger said, grinning.

Mark grinned and went to the phone. He quickly called Maureen, Joanne, Mimi, Angel, and Collins.

"Hey, it's Mark," he said to whoever had answered, "Roger's back in town… Yeah, I thought that might make you happy… We're meeting everybody at the Life tonight to celebrate… He got a record deal and a new car… Yes, you'll get to see it… OK, see you there."

Mark hung up the phone and turned back to Roger, smirking, after he had called everybody. "You are not gonna believe how happy Mimi is that you're back," he said in a sing-song voice.

Roger smiled sadly. Mark knew why Roger looked that way. He'd broken up with Mimi before he'd left. "I know," he said. "It'll be nice to see her again. It'll be great to see everyone's familiar faces again. Are you ready to go?"

"Yeah," said Mark, and he quickly grabbed his camera and they left.

* * *

Everyone met up at the Life Café a little while later, and they were celebrating Roger's return to New York. Mimi barely left his side, but he was just fine with that. Angel kept dancing around on the tables, along with Collins and Maureen. Mark was going around, filming everyone together again and happy, and he was grinning. It was perfect for his next documentary.

"So Roger," said Maureen, "since you have a record deal now, you have to sing us one of your new songs." Roger stared at her. "Come on," she insisted, as she saw the look on his face, "if you can't do it in front of us, you certainly can't do it in front of hundreds or thousands of people."

"And if you _can _sing in front of us here, Roger," Mark said from behind the camera, "then, once you're disgustingly famous, we can go to your concerts and shout out how we used to know you when you were just a struggling, starving musician."

Roger grinned and got up on one of the tables. He thought for a moment which one he wanted to sing, and then it came to him. He sang it for them and then sat down as they clapped happily.

"Congratulations, Roger," said Collins, holding out his hand, which Roger shook. "We're all so excited for you."

"So am I," said Roger, smiling at Collins. "And you know what's even better?"

"What?"

"They're letting me write most of my songs from right here at home, and then taking them back for editing and recording every two weeks. This means, when I'm not touring, I can spend my time here at home with you guys."

"Wow," said Joanne, "that's amazing, Roger. Congrats."

"They don't this very often, so I'm feeling very special. Thanks, Joanne." He smiled gratefully at her.

They continued partying for a while, and then Mimi came up to Roger. "Rog," she said, taking his hand, "we need to talk."

Roger didn't say anything, just simply followed her outside. They stood out in the cold, in the snow, and looked at each other.

"I'm glad you're back," she said finally, after several moments of awkward silence. She stepped closer to him, shifting around nervously.

"So am I," said Roger evenly, but he wasn't smiling.

Mimi noticed his silence. "But not to see me?" she asked.

"Look, Mimi…" Roger began wearily, and he sighed. "I told you before I left, I couldn't do this. You had an affair with Benny, my _landlord_, the man who shut off our power on Christmas Eve last year. Why even be with a man that does something like that? Plus, he's married, Mims. Come on." Roger stared at her.

"I know, Rog," Mimi said pleadingly, "and I'm sorry. But please, Rog, don't do this. I love you."

"I know you do," said Roger, backing away a few steps, "and I did, too, once. But I can't save you, Mimi. This drug problem, too; it used to be my problem, but now it's not. We're over, Mimi. I'm sorry."

He looked into her brown eyes one last time, and then, without another word, he turned and went back inside. Mimi watched him go and then went the opposite direction, away from the Life and all her friends, away from her life. He had just said it. He was done with her. Their relationship was over.

_What am I gonna do now? _Mimi thought helplessly. She turned and started running down the street, as rain starting to fall mixed with the tears streaming down her face, and she disappeared.

* * *

Several hours later, the party had ended and everyone began to go their separate ways, as the rain came down evermore, darkening Roger's mood. Joanne and Maureen headed to their place, and Collins, Angel, Mark, and Roger went to go crash at the loft. Until Angel said something when they arrived there, no one noticed that Mimi was gone.

"Hey, where's Mimi?" she asked, after finding herself a chair and sitting down.

Roger didn't say anything, but Mark and Collins turned to him all the same. "OK, tell us what happened," Mark said sternly.

"Mimi and I… we, uh… we had a fight," Roger said nervously, biting his lip.

Three sets of eyebrows rose. "What?" Mark said. "What about?"

"Her affair with Benny and her drug problem; I told her that I couldn't be with a girl— woman— who would do something like that, and that she had to quit it by herself, like I did. I can't save her from that, if she doesn't want to be saved. I said I was firm about breaking up with her before I left for Santa Fe."

Everyone stared at Roger in shock. They couldn't believe he would say something like that. "Wow, Roger," Mark said, shaking his head, "that's quite harsh, don't you think?"

"No, I don't. It's about time somebody set her straight, and I figured it had to be me. We're all her friends, but she only really listens to me."

Nobody could really believe their ears. "So where is she now?" Angel asked.

"I don't know. She ran off after we were through arguing."

Everyone sighed. What had Roger just done?

"Hey, don't look at me like that, guys," he said defensively. "I was just finally completely honest with her—"

"To the point of being brutal," said Mark.

"Don't you see how much she needs you?" Angel asked Roger, staring at him.

Roger shook his head and turned around. "Hey, where are you going?" Mark called after him.

"I'm going to look for her," said Roger. "She may not be my girlfriend anymore, but she's still our friend. Are you coming or not?"

Mark, Collins, and Angel looked at each other. Roger was so indecisive sometimes. But they nodded and followed him out of the loft nevertheless.

* * *

Roger drove through New York City, thinking about his argument with Mimi. He was furious with her, but that didn't change the fact that she was now on her own, still using, and it was all his fault. Why did he have to snap at her like that?

Roger's mind drifted elsewhere as he took different routes around New York City, looking for her. At one point, he pulled over at a pay phone and called the loft, but no one answered. That meant they were all still out looking for Mimi. Roger hung up the phone and went back to his car.

After a while of searching for Mimi, he couldn't concentrate on that any longer, so he hit the freeway in hopes that the speed would take away some of his tension. The rain continued to fall in sheets and Roger soon got lost in the sweeping motion of his windshield wipers. He didn't notice the overturned tractor-trailer that came flipping across the median and skidding into his lane until it was too late. Roger let out a scream of terror and then everything went black in a crash of glass and metal.

Review? Please tell me what you thought. Again, this is mostly fluff and I'm just trying it out. Thanks for reading.

Until next time, lots of love,

Renthead07


	2. Chapter 2

Roger didn't know how long it was before he woke up. All he did know was that he had a throbbing head and was very confused. He slowly opened his eyes and looked around. Shards of glass were strewn everywhere, across the road, across his car, across him, across the tractor-trailer, all of them catching the headlights of cars passing cautiously.

Roger realized he was sitting upside-down and the blood was rushing to his head. He swooned, but had enough sense to realize he had flipped sideways several times into the ditch. Roger slowly moved his limbs to assess any damage, and his right leg seared with pain when he moved it. He guessed it was broken. Roger tasted blood and noticed it running down from his head.

_Head wounds did always bleed more, _Roger thought numbly.

He realized he couldn't get out of his car, even if his leg wasn't broken. He knew the door wouldn't open; it was so smashed in that he couldn't discern where the door began and the car's body ended. His arms and face were bleeding.

_You really screwed up this time, Davis, _he thought to himself. He trembled, every nerve in his body quivering with fear, shock, and guilt. Like a sharp punch to the gut, it seared through his stomach and chest. Roger vaguely heard voices saying to call for help and a few minutes later, Roger heard sirens and saw flashing lights. Somehow, the emergency team pried the door off the tractor-trailer and Roger's car and they pulled him out carefully. But it still hurt. Roger yelled in pain from his leg and then he lost consciousness and knew no more.

* * *

Mark jumped when he heard the phone ring, but he didn't get to it in time, so the answering machine picked it up.

"Speeeeeeak!" He heard his and Roger's familiar obnoxious voices. It made him smile and then heard the message and his face fell.

"This is the Officer Anthony Flynn, NYPD, calling. I'm sorry to say that a Roger Davis has been involved in a serious car accident and is in critical condition at Bellevue Medical Center."

Mark quickly picked up the phone. "Officer?" he asked.

"Is this Mark Cohen?"

"Yes," said Mark.

"Records show you are next of kin."

"Not exactly," said Mark, "I'm his roommate, but we're like brothers." Mark started to panic. "Is he OK, Officer? Is he hurt?"

"Yes and no, Mr. Cohen; I'm very sorry to have to give you this terrible news. Doctors say he's alive, but in really bad shape. He was alone at the scene, and although he was found conscious, they had to revive him twice."

Officer Flynn paused for a moment before continuing. "Mr. Cohen," he said slowly, "the way this is going, I think you should prepare yourself. I'm very sorry that I had to be the one to give you this news. I send my regards, and I'll call you back when we have any updates at all."

"Thank you, Officer."

Mark hung up the phone and sank to the floor, reality starting to sink in. His best friend was just in a car crash. His best friend could possibly be dying. And the last thing he had said to him was that he had thought Roger had been too brutal in being honest with Mimi…

Mark, still sitting on the floor, picked up the phone with shaking hands and dialed Maureen and Joanne's place. Maureen picked up.

"Maureen, is Joanne there with you?" Mark asked hurriedly.

"Yeah, she is, why? Hang on; let me put you on speaker."

Mark waited until Maureen gave him the go-ahead and then he started talking. "I'm glad I got both of you, because there's something serious you need to know. The police just called me. Roger's been in a wreck. He's at Bellevue."

There was silence on the other end, and Mark knew Joanne and Maureen were shocked. "They found him on East Highway 139. A tractor-trailer had crashed and rolled into his lane. The officer told me that he's in critical condition. We need to get a hold of Collins and Angel and find Mimi, in case he doesn't make it." There was more silence. "Are you two going to be all right?"

Maureen and Joanne's voices came back, sounding very choked up. "Yes, we'll be over to the loft in a few minutes," said Joanne. "How can you be so calm about this, Mark?" Mark smiled and let out his breath a little; he didn't have an answer to that one. "Try to reach Collins and Angel, and we'll be over soon."

"OK. Could you pick them up? You're the only one with a car now." As Mark realized what he had just said, he groaned and bit his lip. "Ah, man, I'm sorry, Joanne, that was completely tactless of me."

"Don't worry about it. Of course we can."

"OK, thanks, bye."

Mark hung up and dialed Angel's place. "Angel," he said, "is Collins there? Yes? There's something you both need to know… It's Roger. He was in an accident earlier. It's not looking good. He's at Bellevue in critical condition. You need to get over to the loft ASAP, so we can go there and be with him. Someone needs to find Mimi, too. If Roger doesn't make it, and she finds out that nobody told her about the wreck, she'll be beyond pissed off. Mo and Jo will be there to pick you up."

Mark hung up and sat and waited for Collins' phone call to announce that he, Angel, and the girls were here. About ten minutes later, he heard it and met them downstairs.

"We couldn't find Mimi…" Joanne said nervously. "There wasn't really any time to search for her…"

Mark got a worried look on his face. "We'll search for her again later. Let's go," he said.

* * *

They quickly got into Joanne's car and went to Bellevue. Upon arriving, Maureen rushed up to the admittance desk and asked for Roger Davis.

"Roger— Davis," she panted, slamming her hands onto the desk. "We need— to see— Roger Davis."

"Pookie," Joanne said, going over to Maureen, "calm down. Come on, just sit down. Mark will handle this."

Maureen opened her mouth, closed it again, and then sighed and slowly went to go sit down next to Joanne. Mark went up to the admittance desk and started talking to the secretary.

"Sorry," he muttered. The secretary nodded understandingly. "Can we at least see Roger Davis' doctor? Is he available?"

"Yes," said the secretary, "one moment, I'll page him for you." The secretary picked up her phone and quickly paged the doctor over the PA system. "He'll be here in a few minutes."

"Thank you," said Mark, and he went to sit down with the others Bohemians.

A doctor came out and called Roger's name. "Roger Davis?" Mark and the other Bohemians stood up and went over to the doctor. "Come with me, please. I'm Doctor Jesse Thomas. Are you his kin?"

"Yes," Mark answered, not having to repeat his earlier conversation with Officer Flynn.

The doctor nodded and quickly began to speak. "They admitted Roger to the ER and found a pulse right away. It was weak and barely registering, but there is still a chance he will pull through with some major consequences."

"Is he OK?" Maureen asked, never breaking from Joanne's arms wrapped around her in a securing hug.

Mark nearly fainted when Doctor Thomas nodded his head and spoke. "Mr. Davis is going to make it."

Tears wasted no time falling from Maureen and Joanne's eyes. They couldn't have been happier, although they knew that, if Mimi was here, she'd beat that by a long shot. However, the doctor wasn't finished. "But with what consequences?" Collins asked, after a pause and a short flinch.

The doctor's face fell to a hundred percent sympathetic. Maureen and Joanne's happiness was short-lived.

"Just think of it this way. Roger had a one in about one hundred thousand chance in surviving, and he lived."

The doctor beckoned for them to follow him and they did. He led them down a long white hall to his office, where they all either sat in chairs or stood. "I brought you in here so you would be more comfortable with hearing the news," he said.

"Do you do this every time you tell a family member that your patient is dying?" Mark asked, as he watched Maureen and Joanne fumbling with tissues from their pockets.

"Mr. Davis isn't dying," he repeated, putting his eyeglasses on and looking at the front page on his clipboard.

"Well, he's not living, either," said Maureen, "or he would be out here with us right now, laughing and having a good time."

"Mo," Mark said, desperately wanting to find out about Roger's condition, "just let him talk… please..."

Doctor Thomas mentally thanked Mark and continued. "Mr. Davis is very much alive… However, he has developed some permanent injuries. Whiplash has caused him to slip the disks in his neck. He will be complaining of stiff necks for a while, but there will be medication provided for helping him through it. He was very lucky not to have broken it."

Mark made a convulsing movement, but no words escaped him. "I know this is hard for you, Mr. Cohen, but if there's anything I hate, it's walking around the truth. I'm sorry for being blunt with his condition, but the sooner I finish, the sooner you can see him."

"Go on," Mark said, after sighing deeply again.

"He had to have his spleen removed, because it had ruptured, plus there are slight fractures in his arms. His jaw is fractured and his nose is broken, and there are other slight fractures and bruises in various places that will heal on their own, without surgery. He is also suffering from a concussion. He has yet to regain consciousness.

"I have to say, non-medically-induced comas are a very tricky thing. Mr. Davis is very much alive, but the longer he resides in a coma, the less of a chance he has for survival. We're also afraid that, once he does exit his coma, he won't know who he is, where he is, or who any of you are."

Collins and Angel just continued to stare blankly at the carpet below them and let the tears drain down their cheeks. Joanne and Maureen didn't bother to cover their faces, either. Joanne never even made a sound. Unlike Maureen, she was holding her emotions inside, except for a few sniffles here and there. Mark felt like he would never be happy again.

"Is that it?" Mark asked, hoping the worst was over. Doctor Thomas nodded. He shook Mark's hand, giving his sympathies, before ushering them to Roger's room down the hall.

* * *

It was the walk of doom, or so it felt. Joanne and Maureen clung to each other for moral support, Angel and Collins as well. Mark had been in the hospital before, but not for very long, and never like this. He felt distinctly alone today, without Roger by his side. It made those other times seem like nothing.

Roger's room was all the way to the end of the busy hallway. Doctors and nurses of all kinds rushed in and out of the other rooms, but not Roger's. They'd done all they could for Roger, and now the rest was up to him.

Walking in the door, they saw the sight they expected. It was difficult to tell it was Roger that lay in the bed. His face was partially covered by a gauze pad, and it couldn't be seen under the blanket, but they knew that his body was way worse.

Doctor Thomas left the five of them alone in the room, telling them to take their time, and he shut the door behind himself. It didn't have to be vocally confirmed that not one of them was going to leave until Roger regained consciousness. They would go search for Mimi once Roger woke up; that way, they would know that Roger was OK, and Mimi wouldn't have to see him like this.

Mark was the first to pull up a chair and sit beside Roger, after letting this entire tribulation sink into her mind. Angel was second, while Collins just continued to stand where he was, trying to be strong for them all.

"If Roger can't remember anything, like the doctors said, he knows someone's here," Mark said, "just not whom. I imagine he's going to be very confused when he wakes up."

"Hopefully, he doesn't throw a fit and put his life on the line," Collins said softly.

"Speaking of line," said Joanne, "his life bar hasn't changed since we arrived, has it?" She glanced over at Roger's life monitor.

"No, it's been a steady beep," said Collins. "He's at the halfway point where he could go either way. If there were a major change, the doctors would be in here pronto. Since we haven't seen one yet, besides Thomas, he must be doing OK."

Mark didn't know what to say.

* * *

Over the next couple of hours, Roger didn't change a bit. He still lay in the same position, with all the necessary equipment hooked up to him, to read his condition. It was now almost day two and the doctor had said to expect complications in his condition if the coma was still in effect after 24 hours. Since Roger's accident had taken place a little after midnight the night before, Mark— as well as the others— had approximately 12 hours to not give up hope. After that, he didn't know what they'd do.

There's more to come, I promise. I'll be going back and forth between Roger's Next Step and Untitled— now named Crash, because I couldn't think of anything else, and I have to thank OnEtHoUsAnDsWeEtKiSsEs for it— when I get in a rut for one or the other. Thanks for reading and keep the reviews coming. They make me happy.

Until next time, lots of love,

Renthead07


	3. Chapter 3

The story is post-Rent from here on, just so you know. So both Mimi and Angel are dead, as much as I didn't want them to die. But I told Renthead621 that I couldn't, and wouldn't, keep her from her beloved Roger for long, so here's the third chapter for you. Obviously, if I owned the lyrics to YE, Jonathan Larson would have issues with me.

Mark was going through Roger's things in his room absent-mindedly one day, a month after Roger's accident had occurred. It had been four weeks to the day since the terrible night, and Roger still hadn't regained consciousness.

Mark and the other bohemians had almost forgotten about the post-24-hour complication period that was so long ago, because Mimi and Angel had both recently lost their lives; Mimi to a drug overdose and Angel to complications with AIDS, involving an infection.

Collins was doing well enough. Mostly, he was just trying to stay strong for Roger. He had said that when Angel died, all he would need was to be with his friends more, and he would be comforted. That seemed to be working.

Mark was still very concerned about Roger, however. Besides the fact that he was comatose, Mark knew Roger was going to go insane when he woke up and was told Mimi was dead.

Mark was looking through Roger's music collection, his CD's, his demos, etc., when he came upon something. It was a cassette, attached to a piece of paper. Mark carefully detached the paper from the cassette and he read it.

_Your eyes  
As we said our goodbyes  
Can't get them out of my mind  
And I find I can't hide from  
Your eyes  
The ones that took me by surprise  
The night you came into my life  
Where there's moonlight  
I see your eyes_

_How'd I let you slip away  
When I'm longing so to hold you  
Now I'd die for one more day  
'Cause there's something I should have told you  
Yes, there's something I should have told you_

_When I looked into your eyes  
Why does distance make us wise?  
You were the song all along  
And before the song dies_

_I should tell you, I should tell you  
I have always loved you  
You can see it in my eyes_

From the moment he finished reading the note, Mark knew what the cassette was for. He put it in a player and pressed play and soon discovered he was right. It was a demo of the song Roger had taken all year to write, and that Mimi had never gotten to hear.

Mark realized there were tears stinging the backs of his eyes at the thought. He had to tell Roger he'd found it, and that it was amazing; but he knew Roger would feel beyond terrible that Mimi had not gotten to hear it. And then, Mark thought, Roger might bring up questions about how Mark had gotten a hold of the demo and lyrics in the first place and—

_Cohen, stop it, _Mark thought sternly. _Roger trusts you too much to even think about asking something like that. You're his best friend. You've been his roommate for years. That is not gonna happen and you know it._

The phone ringing jerked Mark back to reality. He jumped with surprise and went out to answer it.

"Hello?"

"Is this Mark Cohen?"

Mark sighed silently. He was getting tired of phone calls always asking him that. "Yes, this is he. Who is this, please?"

"This is Doctor Jesse Thomas. I'm calling on behalf of Roger Davis."

Mark gripped the phone tightly. "Is everything all right? Is Roger OK?" Mark listened carefully to what the doctor said, making sure he didn't miss a word. "OK, I'll let everyone know. We'll be there as soon as we can. Thank you, Doctor."

Mark hung up and took a few seconds to let out the breath he realized he'd been holding, and to take another in. Then he picked up the phone again, his hands shaking, and he quickly dialed Angel's place, where he knew Collins was still staying.

"Collins? It's Mark. You need to know…"

Mark realized he'd said almost the exact same thing a month ago to everyone, as he dialed Maureen and Joanne's number.

"Mo, is Jo there with you? OK, good… No, nothing is wrong… In fact, everything is wonderful… That was the hospital. Roger's waking up."

Please don't kill me, Renthead621, LOL. You didn't have to be without our beloved Roger for long.

I would have put this up sooner, but the document manager is being evil and giving me trouble. And what is up with the Support Fan Fiction page not being there anymore? Can anyone explain that?

There will be more to come, so please keep reviewing!

Until next time, lots of love,

Renthead07


	4. Chapter 4

There is some language in this chapter from Roger, so if you are easily offended, do not continue to read this chapter. I made sure my date was right for when Roger woke up, by turning my computer back 17 years, LOL.

Not wasting any time, the Bohemians jumped into Joanne's car and drove to Bellevue Medical Center. They ran into the hospital and quickly went up to the front desk. Mark stepped forward from the group and asked to see Roger and Doctor Thomas. The secretary paged him and the doctor met them in the waiting room.

"Come with me," said Doctor Thomas, and they followed him eagerly down to Roger's room. He stopped at the door and turned to face the bohemians.

"He has not yet woken up completely," said Doctor Thomas, "but I thought I'd call you and have you come before he does, so he has a few familiar faces to see when he does."

"Thank you, Doctor," said Mark, and he went with the others close behind him. They all pulled chairs up around Roger's bed and sat down and waited. They couldn't do anything but wait.

* * *

It wasn't long before Mark heard Roger groan and he stirred. His eyes opened and he groaned again as he looked around, confused.

"Hey, Roger, welcome back," said Mark. "Don't try to talk; they wired your jaw shut since you broke it."

Roger looked around, confused. He also noticed he couldn't move his head. Mark saw the frustration on his face and immediately explained.

"You slipped a couple disks in your neck," he said. "The brace is to make sure you don't try to move and worsen the injury."

"Roger," said Doctor Thomas, coming into the room and standing where Roger could see him, "one blink means 'yes' and two blinks means 'no', until we take the wire out, OK?"

Roger blinked once. _OK._

"I should tell you what your injuries are," said Doctor Thomas. Roger stared at him nervously. "Broken leg, broken nose, fractured jaw, concussion, and other slight fractures in your right arm. You also had your spleen ruptured removed. Even though you're right-handed, would you like to try writing with your left hand? It'll be slower and pretty messy, but it's all we can do until we take the wire out of your jaw."

Roger blinked. _Yes._

The doctor got a notepad and a pen from one of the nurses, and he positioned it carefully under Roger's left arm. Very slowly and rather clumsily, Roger began to write answers to questions Doctor Thomas asked.

"These people behind me, do you know who they are?"

Roger blinked once and Mark heaved a sigh of relief and smiled at him. _Yes. _It took him a few minutes, but he finally had something written down: _Mark, Mo, Jo, and Collins._

The doctor looked at Mark, who nodded. The doctor looked back at Roger. "Good, that's very good. Next question: how much of the accident do you remember?"

_Driving, rain, tractor-trailer, nothing, EMT's, nothing._

"OK, so you remember everything up to the point of impact. This is very good news. You passed out after they pulled you out, so that's why you don't remember anything else."

_OK._

The doctor looked at Roger. "Now, do you have any questions for us?"

_What day is it? How long have I been out?_

"Monday, December 31, 1990. You've been out for almost a month and a half." Roger's eyebrows rose so high they were in danger of disappearing into his golden hair. The doctor paused. "How are you feeling?"

_I feel fine, except my broken hand and leg hurts._

"Since we have you on several painkillers already, we can't do anything more for you at this point. I'm sorry."

Roger looked upset about this, but Mark looked at him and said, "But you're tough, Roger, you'll be fine."

Roger blinked once. _When can I go home?_

"One week. In that time, we need to see how the coma has affected you. Your skills with your hands are fine, but your other limbs might not be."

The doctor paused as he saw Roger begin to write something so hastily it almost seemed like an objection. Despite the messiness, Doctor Thomas could read it.

_If my right hand wasn't fractured, I'd use that to make this go faster._

"I know. We also need to test how well you can walk and talk."

_Again with the injury…_

Dr. Thomas chuckled. "Right now, I want you to rest. Come on, you four," he added to Mark, Maureen, Joanne, and Collins.

They made to follow him, but Roger shot Mark a pleading look, begging him to stay. Mark went over and squeezed Roger's good hand and said, "We'll be back later, I promise. Oh…" He paused. "Roger?" Roger looked at him. "Happy New Year."

Roger blinked once and sank back against his pillows, admitting defeat and now feeling immensely lonely.

* * *

A month and a half later, Roger got the wire removed. He could barely contain himself, he was so excited to finally be allowed to talk again.

"Can you talk?" he asked.

Roger opened and closed his mouth a few times. "Yeah," he said, "but it hurts."

"We took x-rays and your fracture is minor. You can talk, but take it easy, and you have to follow a special soft food diet for a while."

"How long do I have to do that?"

"Six weeks."

Roger's eyes widened. "Shit! Aw, man…" he groaned. "That's a long time." Dr. Thomas smiled sympathetically. "Can I try to walk?"

"Yes. Use that crutch there to keep your weight off your broken leg."

Mark handed Roger the crutch and he slowly swung himself out of bed. He positioned the crutch under his arm and took a step, Mark by his side as Maureen, Joanne, and Collins watched.

The second Roger put weight on his good leg, it shook horribly. He wobbled and Mark supported him. When Mark let up on his support some, Roger's good knee buckled and he crumpled to the floor.

"Damn it!" Roger exclaimed, and Mark, Collins, and Dr. Thomas immediately picked him up and lifted him back into the bed. He hadn't gotten but a few inches away, but there was still tears in Roger's eyes when they let go of him, once he was safely back in his bed, which felt like a prison now.

"I feel like such a fucking invalid," he sobbed. "Why the hell can't I walk?"

"It's a side effect from the coma. With physical therapy sessions for six to eight weeks, you should be able to walk like nothing was ever wrong."

"You mean I _will _be able to," Roger countered. "You doctors are always so damn negative; do you see why I hate being here?"

Roger leaned back against his pillows and rolled his Kryptonite-green eyes. He still had a long way to go. Then a thought suddenly occurred to him, and he looked around, confused.

"Mark," he said, "where's Angel and Mimi?"

Ooh, cliffhanger. Dun dun dun. Don't forget to review.

Until next time, lots of love,

Renthead07


	5. Chapter 5

The therapist's first name is my best friend's name. She pretty much rocks my world, and she knows it! There is some strong language in this chapter as well, so if you're easily offended, don't read any further. If you can handle it, well, onward and upward!

Mark didn't know what to say. He looked at Roger, lost for words. He bit his lip, trying to buy himself time. But Roger would not hear of it.

"Mark, tell me, damn it," he said. "Something happened, didn't it?"

"Well, yes, in a matter of speaking," Mark said hesitantly.

Roger glared at him. "Mark, tell me. If something happened to them, don't you dare hide it from me."

"Rog," Mark began, "don't you remember that Angel died three months ago? She died on Halloween, her favorite holiday, remember?"

"Oh," Roger said glumly, "right. Sorry, I forgot. Kinda hard to keep those things straight when I've been fucking unconscious for a month." His Kryptonite-green eyes locked onto Mark's crystal-blue ones. "You're fucking dodging, Mark. Skillfully, but it's still dodging!"

Mark sighed. "I know, Roger," he said, biting his lip again, "but I don't know if you should know yet. You should rest and get better first."

"Mark, don't be a prick!" Roger growled dangerously.

Mark looked back at Maureen, Joanne, and Collins. The three of them were giving him looks that clearly said he'd gotten himself into it and he was going to get himself out.

"I'm sorry, Roger, but I really think it's best if you don't know until you're better."

"I can't believe you're fucking hiding this from me!" Roger yelled. "Did something happen or not?"

"Yes," Mark snapped, suddenly feeling irritated, "something did, Rog. Mimi died a week ago, Rog, before you woke up, and we buried her."

Mark watched Roger's reaction carefully. For a few minutes, he sat silently, just breathing. Then he started to sob and the tears came.

"Oh my God, Mark," he sobbed, "how could you even _try _to keep something fucked up like that from me?"

"Roger, you can't dwell on Mimi's death," Mark said. "You have to concentrate on getting better. That's all you can do for now."

Roger didn't say anything. He merely sat there, tears running down his face.

"Maybe if you say you'll get better for Mimi, it'll be easier," Mark suggested, as Roger's grief quieted. "She wouldn't want you to dwell on her death, Rog, you know that. She was just too sick. Her body finally just had to let go."

Mark looked pleadingly at Roger. "Rog, I'm so sorry. We would have told you a little while ago, but we were just more worried about you. We didn't even know if you would make it. Don't you see that?"

Roger nodded, still crying silently. Mark backed away from him, toward the other Bohemians. "We should leave you to rest." Roger looked swiftly at him. "We'll be back later."

"Bye, Roger," Maureen and Joanne said, looking sadly at him.

"Get better, man," Collins said comfortingly, and then they left.

Roger felt the familiar feeling of immense loneliness take over him again, coupled by pain from his injuries and sorrow. He pulled the covers up to his chest and collapsed into an exhausted slumber.

* * *

The next day, when Mark and the Bohemians came to see Roger, he was asleep. Mark noticed the IV in his wrist and figured he was possibly sedated.

Doctor Thomas came into the room and did a quick examination on Roger. "He's just sleeping," the doctor assured them. "He had a very rough night. He woke up a while after you left, and was panicking. We had to sedate him so he could sleep, but once he was, we took him off the sedation. What did you tell him yesterday that upset him so?"

"His ex-girlfriend, Mimi, died last week, while he was still in the coma," said Mark, "and he'd forgotten about our friend, Angel's, death. He didn't take it as well as we thought he would."

Mark quickly explained about Mimi and her death. "She was addicted to heroin, and it destroyed her. She ended up with a high fever and hypothermia, and after we'd found her in the alley across from the Cat Scratch Club, we took her to the loft and she died soon after. Angel's death wasn't so quick, her death took much longer. She lived with it for months, even years, and eventually, she just let go, too."

The doctor's face fell. "I'm sorry. I can see why he was so upset now. But he had to be told sometime."

Mark nodded. "He knew about Angel; we were all in the hospital when Angel died. But he forgot. I wanted to wait until he was better to tell him about Mimi," he said, "but he insisted. I suggested that, maybe, if he would recover with Mimi in mind, it would make it easier. I don't know if he'll listen to me or not, though; he can be pretty stubborn sometimes."

Doctor Thomas nodded. "That sounds like a good suggestion," he said, "but it's up to him to follow such advice." The doctor looked at Mark. "If you don't mind me asking, how long were he and Mimi together?"

"Almost a year," Mark answered.

"I see. Well, once he wakes up, we'll run a few tests and I think he's good to go home tomorrow, as long as he keeps up with his soft-food diet for the next six weeks, in order to let his jaw heal. Everything else will heal with time and no pressure. Call us tomorrow to set up therapy appointments."

"Yes, Doctor. That should make him happy— getting out of here, I mean." Doctor Thomas smiled. "Thanks." Mark heard Roger groan and he stirred. "Hey, Rog, rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty."

Roger's eyes opened and he looked at Mark. "Oh, it's you," he said sourly.

Mark ignored his remark. "How are you feeling?"

"I wish everyone would quit fucking asking me that," Roger said irritably. "I just want to get the hell out of here. I'm sick of fucking being here, sitting on my ass."

"Well, then," Mark said, grinning at him, "it'll make you happy to know that you're getting out of here tomorrow."

Roger smiled. "Good," he said simply, "then what?"

"Then you get your casts taken off in six weeks, and then therapy for six weeks to regain back your strength."

Roger smiled. "I'm glad," he said truthfully. He looked at Mark. "Mark, can you do something for me?" Mark nodded. "When I get out of here tomorrow, go to the loft, and in my room, you'll find some papers in my guitar case. Bring them to me."

Mark nodded. "OK, Rog, I will," he said. He knew what Roger was talking about: the song for Mimi. What was Roger planning on doing with it? Mark was slightly concerned, but he nodded nevertheless. "I'll see you tomorrow, then," he said, "and we'll go home, OK?"

"OK," said Roger, and he leaned against his pillows, better satisfied this time. Mark squeezed his good hand encouragingly and then he nodded and left.

* * *

Two months later, Joanne and Mark drove Roger to the therapy building and Mark helped him out of the car. It was 10:30 on a Friday morning, the 23rd of March, and Roger was due for his first therapy session. He'd gotten his casts off the day before.

"Mark," he panted, as he managed to stand up on the sidewalk on his crutches, "I— I don't think I can do this."

Mark frowned. "Now, now, none of that bad attitude; remember, you're doing this for Mimi and no one else. Not me, not Collins, not Joanne, you're doing this for Mimi, and most importantly"— Mark put his hands firmly on Roger's shaking shoulders— "for yourself. Now come on, you say you don't want to be called an invalid— well, prove it. Persevere!"

Roger looked down at Mark, slightly stunned at his words. "Wow," he said, "OK, you win, I see your point. Let's go." Roger hobbled into the building and Mark got him into a chair. A therapist came out to meet them.

"Roger Davis?" she called. Roger looked up from concentrating on where his feet were going. "I'm Madeline Saunders. You can call me Madeline or Maddy. Come with me and we'll begin your session."

"Right," said Roger, and he looked at Mark. "Don't you dare leave me here, alone?!"

"We have to, Rog," said Mark. "We have to go to work. We'll be back in two hours. Do _not_ give Madeline any trouble."

Roger grinned evilly. "See you later," he said, and Mark and Joanne left as he went hobbling along beside Madeline.

* * *

Roger soon realized that the only thing he liked about therapy was, despite the incredible difficulty, learning how to walk again. He was almost glad, at the end of the hour, that none of his friends could see him. They wouldn't laugh, he knew, but they wouldn't really believe it was him, either. He felt pathetic and useless, like a child.

_Well, technically, until I can walk again, I _am _fucking_ _useless, _he thought bitterly to himself.

All Roger could think about was regaining his legs and hand back. His legs and hand being healed meant he could go back on tour. His legs meant… freedom.

Madeline helped him over to parallel bars and he pulled himself up. They extended from one wall to the other, and he was obviously supposed to walk them. Roger realized with horror just how far he really had to go, when he began to walk them. His legs shook like they were brand-new and unused. It wasn't a pretty sight.

Roger walked back and forth across the bars for an hour, and then Madeline called for an end to that. "You're doing very well," she said. "It won't be long before you can walk slowly, but easily, and then we'll work on getting you back up to speed, OK?"

"OK," said Roger, "as long as that's soon, or I'm gonna have an aneurism or something."

Madeline smiled. "Recovery from something like what happened to you is never 'soon'," she said. "But you're making progress already, and it's not even the end of the first day yet. Let's get you some weights to regain back strength in your arms, too."

"Well, good," said Roger, "because I need my arms to play my fender guitar."

Madeline got the weights for him and he sat down and lifted them. It wasn't difficult, but it wasn't easy, either. Even his arms shook from disuse. "You play guitar?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said. "I tour three months out of the year. So far, my best song is _Your Eyes_, dedicated to my ex-girlfriend, who died last week. I write whatever comes to me."

"It sounds like a great way to entertain yourself and others," said Madeline. They continued talking for the next half an hour, then Madeline looked at the clock. "Well, our time here is almost up. Joanne and Mark will be here soon to pick you up." Roger stood up with her help. "Same time on Monday and Wednesday, OK?"

Roger shrugged. "Sure."

Madeline escorted him out to where Joanne and Mark were standing in the lobby. "Bye, Roger; great job today."

Roger didn't let Madeline see, but he smiled at Mark and Joanne. It really was progress… progress for Mimi.

"Mark," he said, looking at Mark, "you forgot to do something for me when I left the hospital."

Mark smacked his forehead with his hand. "Oh, the papers!" he exclaimed. "I'm sorry, Roger. Do you want to go get them now?"

"Yes, and then we have to go to Mimi's grave. I want to give them to her. I want to talk to her. I want—"

"Closure," Mark suggested.

Roger smiled wearily. "Yeah; can we do that?"

"Sure, Rog, we'll go do that now. Come on."

They climbed into Joanne's car and drove to the loft. They retrieved the papers Roger asked for and then drove to Mimi's grave. By the time Roger hobbled up to it, he had tears on his face, but he was smiling sadly. Mark set the papers down on Mimi's grave, putting a rock over them to hold them down, and then Roger began to speak.

"Mimi," he said, "I miss you so fucking much, Baby. After you left, I got myself into a big mess; everything had been my fault. Breaking up with you like the heartless bastard I can be sometimes, and then I got into a car wreck, Baby. It fucking sucked. I'm so sorry I did, too, but it was an accident. It was raining and I just didn't see that truck. I'm sorry I couldn't protect you from your addiction, but I really did try. I really did love you, Baby. I miss you so fucking much now. It's so hard to go on without you, but I am. I'm getting better with you in mind."

Roger looked up at the sky. "Say hi to Angel from all of us. I'm sure you two are having a blast wreaking hell up there without us, pun fully intended. I love you. Bye, Mimi."

Roger turned to face Joanne and Mark, who were both crying. Roger gave them a smile of understanding and they went home.

Eight days. That's how long it took me to come up with this. You readers probably have no idea how frustrating this is for me, except for maybe Rosablasifann08 and Renthead621, because I complain to them over Email and MSN. But the lack of writing and the massive amount of block that I'm having is horrible and it's actually physically wearing on me. I HATE Writer's Block with a vengeance!

Well, now that we got that out of the way— and somehow, it came to me in school, in the middle of my second period class— here's the next chapter for you. I hope it meets expectations, I really do. Please review; it would make me feel better, because I feel really bad for not having updated in a long time. Thanks and have a great day.

Until next time, lots of love,

Renthead07


	6. Chapter 6

Short, but hopefully satisfactory. This came to me today during second period. Personally, I think it's a fabulous ending. I hope it satisfies all of you as well. Thank you so much for reading and reviewing as much as you have. I very much appreciate it. Enjoy this final chapter.

A few weeks later, Roger hobbled out into the kitchen, heading for the coffee pot. He leaned heavily on his left leg, shifting part of his weight to his left arm. Opening the cupboard with his right arm, although this was difficult and still slightly painful, his arm weak from disuse, he put in the filter, poured in some beans, and turned the coffee on, so it would start brewing. Then he sat down at the kitchen table to wait and think. It was quiet, and for once, he enjoyed it. It was nice not to have all the Bohemians running around him, drunk or high, for once.

A little while later, the coffee was done, and Mark came out into the kitchen, as if on cue.

"Morning, Roger," he said.

"Morning," Roger replied.

"How's your leg today?" Mark asked.

"It's stiff, but that's OK," Roger said, shrugging, as he poured himself and Mark a cup of coffee. "Isn't my last therapy session today?"

"Yeah," said Mark, "but you're not going to jump right back into touring, you know."

"I know," Roger said, nodding, as he sipped his coffee. "But at least I'm alive, right? That crash could have killed me; somebody up there must have vouched for me."

Mark smiled. "Right," he said. "Come on, let's go. It's already 9:30. Your session starts at 10:30. I'm sure Madeline is looking forward to your last day with her."

"Then we have to go to Mimi's grave again," Roger said. "I have to talk to her one last time, and tell her I'm OK, and that everything's gonna be all right again."

Mark smiled. "We'll be sure to do that," he said, as he helped Roger downstairs. As they approached the door to go outside, they heard Joanne honk, as she arrived. "That's Jo," Mark said. "Let's go, Rog, it's the last day. We're all proud of you, you know."

"I know," said Roger, as he climbed awkwardly into the car. "Hi, Jo."

"Hey, Rog," Joanne said. "Are you ready for today?"

"More than ready, Jo," Roger answered.

"We're proud of you for doing so well," she said, "even though we know it's been really hard for you."

"Well, you said so yourself," Roger said, as they drove to the therapy building, "I can't dwell on Mimi's death. I have to go on without her. I have to live for today."

"Amen to that," Joanne said, squeezing his hand as they went inside.

* * *

Roger leaned on Mark and Joanne for support, as he stood in front of Mimi's grave, with a bouquet of flowers in his hand.

"Hi, Mimi," he began, feeling slightly foolish, "it's Roger. I had my final therapy session today. Madeline said I'll be walking just like normal in a couple of weeks, and that if I lift weights, I'll continue to gain strength in my hand, so I can go back to playing guitar. My hand still hurts a little, but not enough to quit playing. I've missed touring a lot, and I can't wait to get back to it. I haven't written a song in so long, I get the words will explode from my hands soon.

"But you know, as much as I miss you, I'm not sad that you're gone anymore. Instead, I'm happy to live to see a new day, like you and Angel taught us to, until I can't anymore."

He pulled a small, round candle out of his pocket, set it on the ground by the headstone, and lit it. He closed his eyes for a moment, and he could almost picture Mimi standing in front of him. Then he opened his eyes and stood up with Mark and Joanne's help.

"I have to go now. We're going home. I've realized something, though; it may sound silly, but I'm going home, changed." He looked down at the headstone. "We'll see each other again someday," he said. "When we do, we'll be whole, there will be no more pain or grief, only happiness, and everything will be OK. Goodbye, my love."

Roger turned around and slowly walked away. As he did so, the candle blew out.

Until next time, lots of love,

Renthead07


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